


Jump Spirit

by SwissArmyKnife



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Bullying, Child Abuse, Gen, Goodwill Games, Kabaji kidnaps Momo (sort of), Karupin - Freeform, Momo is a good senpai, Momo is hit by a car and Kaidou sees it happen, Protective Taka, Protective Team, Rivalry, Sanada is not amused by Momo’s shinanigans, Seigaku’s Number-One Rascal, Sexual Predators, Someone Finds Out, Tenipuri Family, U-17 Camp, Vice-Captain Momo, but the other Rikkaidai members are, it’s traumatic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2020-08-14 17:20:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20195881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwissArmyKnife/pseuds/SwissArmyKnife
Summary: Momoshiro Takeshi and his relationship with his friends, rivals, and enemies.Unwilling to indulge him, Kaidoh jerked his head around. It was only by chance he glanced back as the crossing light turned green and Momoshiro began to glide across, bicycle wheels spinning. The road was slick, and an oncoming vehicle – an ancient-looking truck piled with crates – wasn't slowing. Shrill honks of warning rose from other cars, followed by the shriek of breaks applied too suddenly on the wet pavement. It hydroplaned, over corrected, lost control. Poised halfway across the intersection, the figure on the bike looked up."Momo!"Current Chapter Summary: When Taka-san finds out Momoshiro has been hiding injuries, he struggles to find a way to help without causing more damage.





	1. Bicycle Wheels

**Author's Note:**

> Stories about Momoshiro Takeshi through the lens of thirty (or so) emotions. This began as a form of personal entertainment while I watched the series, but it became a great deal more. In such a character-rich environment as _Prince of Tennis_, there were endless combinations to write about, and this compilation runs the gamut (there’s even a Kabaji story). Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Momoshiro gets hit by a vehicle while riding his bicycle; Kaidoh sees it happen._

Bicycle wheels. That's what he would remember. The sound of bicycle wheels hissing over damp pavement. Silver spokes catching rays of light as they broke through dissipating clouds. There was more, but beyond the bicycle was obfuscating fog. Deliberate fog. He didn't want to remember.

That whole day it had rained, but in the evening the skies cleared to reveal an orange, low-hanging sun. Kaidoh relished it as he jogged, sending up spits of water every time his sneakers hit the ground. There was a breeze blowing, and it felt good against his skin. Sunk in meditation, he focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the movement of his legs, the pace. Then, bicycle wheels. The sound drew his attention as he was passing over a pedestrian bridge, and he glanced down in time to see a familiar form peddling alongside the road. The blue bike frame, the black uniform. They left no doubt. Momoshiro.

Kaidoh muttered an exasperated, "Che." Even when there was no practice, he couldn't go a day without seeing that guy. Still, it wasn't as though they had to stop and chat. They weren't even going in the same direction. Momoshiro _had_ spotted him; he raised a hand from his handlebars, giving a short wave. He also flashed that grating smile of his, like he only remembered they were supposed to be rivals part of the time.

Unwilling to indulge him, Kaidoh jerked his head around. It was only by chance he glanced back as the crossing light turned green and Momoshiro began to glide across, bicycle wheels spinning. The road was slick, and an oncoming vehicle – an ancient-looking truck piled with crates – wasn't slowing. Shrill honks of warning rose from other cars, followed by the shriek of breaks applied too suddenly on the wet pavement. It hydroplaned, over corrected, lost control. Poised halfway across the intersection, the figure on the bike looked up.

_"Momo!"_ Kaidoh heard himself scream as the truck struck.

Then he was running, or at least his body was. It seemed like his brain was stuck on the bridge, staring helplessly at the crosswalk. He barely registered the acrid black smoke pouring from the crashed vehicle or the chaos of interrupted traffic. His senses were latched onto the body lying in the middle of the road, while a twisted bicycle tire turned slowly nearby.

"Momoshiro," Kaidoh said. The pavement was damp, and his knees were soaked as soon as he knelt. He hesitated, his throat in knots, unsure where to lay his hands.

There was blood all over, matting down Momoshiro's hair. It had soaked through his clothes, his white school oxford barely recognizable. He was curled on his side, but his arms and legs didn't look right. Like the limbs of a doll, they seemed too loose to be attached to his body. Kaidoh jerked the bandana off his head, instinct shrieking that he should do something, but he didn't know what.

There were background noises. Someone had called an ambulance: _Car accident, hit a boy on a bike. He's not moving, I can't tell if he's breathing._ Someone knelt on Momoshiro's other side, was gently peeling back his clothing. "Put pressure here," the person said, and Kaidoh complied with automatic movements. Trusting a stranger because he couldn't _think._

The wail of a siren. Staccato beats of boots on pavement, and then people in uniforms were pushing Kaidoh back. He sat, moisture seeping through the seat of his shorts, and listened to them speak in medical language he barely understood. Finally, one said, "Ready the stretcher. One, two, three. Lift."

Kaidoh lost it just a little when he realized they were leaving. They tried to stop him from climbing into the back of the ambulance, and he heard himself saying wild things, crazy things: _He's my friend – let me go – he's my friend – I need to go with him._

In the end, they let him. Lifted him into the back like he was a kid and sat him down on a bench squished into the narrow space. A hand pressed his head between his knees, a voice saying, "Breathe, kid, just breathe. Geez, what was I supposed to do? I just couldn't leave him out there on the street. He's having a panic attack."

Frantic movement of which he was only partially aware. He could barely see Momoshiro as the emergency technicians worked. At one point, one of them spoke to him. "Hey, do you know his blood type?"

"O negative," Kaidoh answered. The information fell out of nowhere. Was it in one of Inui's notebooks? Had his senpai rattled it off during a training session, a tournament match, or some other time he couldn't remember?

Background noises: _My God, what's holding this kid together?_

Kaidoh didn't realize he was hyperventilating until one of the technicians grabbed his wrist. "Hold his hand or something, kid. Anything. Just calm down."

Hold his hand? Even now, with Momoshiro barely breathing on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance, he couldn't. That wasn't something they did. He stared at his trembling fingers, at his teammate lying there, surrounded by chaos. He reached out and grasped the front of his shirt, drawing the bloody edges together, and gripped until he could feel the bite of his nails through the fabric. It was a gesture he'd made a thousand, thousand times. He exhaled. He could do this.

When they arrived at the hospital, Kaidoh wandered into the emergency bay, barely aware of where he was. There were chairs. He sat in one, hands dangling between his knees. A woman in scrubs was kneeling in front of him. "They said you were his friend. What's his name? How old is he? Do you know his home phone number?"

Somehow he answered everything. Momoshiro Takeshi, who had just turned fourteen a few days before the Kanto tournament, which Kaidoh knew because their birthdays were only four months apart. He even knew the phone number, could recite it though he could barely feel his lips moving.

He lost track of time after that. He wasn't even waiting for news. He just couldn't go. Not while Momoshiro was here somewhere, hurt. Or was he dead? Kaidoh put his head down again, like he had in the ambulance. He concentrated on breathing.

* * *

It seemed that a lot of time had passed. The unnatural lighting of the emergency waiting room made it hard to tell, but Kaidoh's muscles were stiff from sitting so long. He was drooping with exhaustion, elbows on his knees, when he heard a familiar voice call his name.

"Kaidoh."

His neck creaked as he lifted his head. A figure in green track pants stood before him, scrutinizing him through dark glasses. Kaidoh worked his throat until he was able to speak. "Inui-senpai."

Inui sat beside him, and Kaidoh was stunned when he initiated physical contact, placing a hand on his back. "Your family has been very worried about you. They didn't know where you were."

Another little jolt. "What time is it?"

"Morning. School will be starting soon."

That meant he had been at the hospital all night. "How did you know I was here?"

"Ryuzaki-sensei got a call from your parents about two o'clock this morning. We've been looked for you since then, but it wasn't until a few hours ago when things started to click." Inui paused. "That's when we heard about Momoshiro."

Kaidoh swallowed thickly. He wasn't ready to think about that. "I didn't realize what time it was," he admitted.

Inui nodded. "You're in shock."

Was he? Realizing how frightened he'd probably made everyone, he tried to straighten, to get enough feeling in his feet to stand. "I need to call my parents."

Pressure, holding him down. Inui's measured voice was very reassuring. "I already let them know, as soon as I confirmed you were here and that you weren't hurt."

Confused, Kaidoh expanded his senses beyond his aching muscles and fuzzy head. He was still in his running shorts, which were no longer wet. However, his shirt was stained and his fingernails were caked. Seeing them brought a sudden bout of nausea. "I'm fine. This...this isn't mine."

"I spoke to some of the nurses on duty," Inui said. "They said you came in with Momoshiro. Did you see it happen?"

"I was passing over a bridge. The roads were slick and the truck couldn't stop." Flashes of memory flooded him. Shrieking horns, the hiss of tires sliding across asphalt. A sound he had never known before; an impact of flesh and metal. Then smoke, his bandana hanging uselessly from his hand, and bicycle wheels. He closed his eyes on the images. "He looked dead."

"They took him into surgery when he first arrived, and then again a few hours ago. They won't release more information to non-family members, so we probably won't know much for a few days." Inui's paused, then said, "He is alive, Kaidoh."

Kaidoh curled over, wrapping his arms around his stomach. "I think I might be sick."

His senpai stood. "Let's go to the restroom. You can wash your face, and then we should leave. I've volunteered to take you home."

* * *

For the next week, the Seigaku tennis club waited for news. The pressure it exerted on all of them was terrible, though it manifested in different ways. For Oishi, it meant a precious thin temper. He scolded the wide-eyed freshmen, snapping at anyone who so much as whispered Momoshiro's name. Eiji and Kawamura-senpai were emotional, one minute listless and lethargic, the next tearful and effusive. Fuji had responded by gaining a dangerous edge, talking little and playing tennis like it was life or death. No one would engage him except Inui, and even those matches were short.

Echizen wasn't there. Inui told Kaidoh that when Ryoma was informed about what happened, he'd walked off the court and gone home. Eiji had gone by his house, but a worried looking young woman had appeared at the door and sent him away. Kaidoh wished he could retreat like that. As it was, he was barely functioning and had no heart for practice. One of the other sophomores beat him six games to two, and he didn't even care.

On the fifth day, Kaidoh was called out of class by Ryuzaki-sensei. She was waiting for him at the end of the hall, and when he reached her, she gave him a measured look. "Good news," she said. "Momoshiro woke up yesterday and was able to talk normally. They were worried because of the head injury, but he seems okay. No permanent damage."

Worry detached from his shoulders like a weighted jacket. "He's alright?"

Ryuzaki-sensei cleared her throat in lieu of answering. "Apparently, his memory of what happened is a little fuzzy, but he seems to know you were there. The doctors thought it might ease his mind if you visited."

In Kaidoh's mind, he saw a slowly spinning bicycle wheel, so misshapen it was barely identifiable. 

Ryuzaki-sensei seemed to read his frozen expression, and a compassionate frown tugged at her mouth.  
"Kaidoh, Inui told me witnessing the accident was traumatic for you." His reaction was to turn his head away and hiss with annoyance, but she didn't let that stop her. "Even if the person had been a stranger, it would have been terrible, but you and Momo have always been close, and I know that makes it worse."

Close? They weren't even friends. Screaming at each other and trying to throttle one another on occasion didn't make you friends. _'But you knew his phone number,'_ a small, inward voice murmured. It creeped him out that it sounded like Inui-senpai. _'You know his birthday, his favorite food, where he spends his time after school.'_ Irrelevant, he told himself. They were teammates.

Ryuzaki-senpai startled him by placing a hand on his arm. "I think it would be good for you to go. Seeing him doing better might make things easier. And perhaps it will help him, too."

Kaidoh felt himself nodding, even though he didn't want to. How could he say no to that?

* * *

The hospital brought back indistinct but disconcerting memories. As he passed a plastic chair in the waiting area, he wondered if that was the one where he'd sat or if all the chairs looked the same. After a long, slow elevator ride, doors ratcheted open onto a hallway crowded with the smell of antibacterial cleaning solution. Kaidoh felt immaterial as he moved onto the floor. The nurses at the station barely glanced at him, and he could hear disembodied voices mixed with the hum of fluorescent lights.

"Kaidoh-kun."

A dark-haired woman beckoned him. Kaidoh didn't recognize her at first, but as soon as he was close enough, he knew without a doubt who she was. Momoshiro had her eyes. She smiled at him, a tired expression, and ushered him toward a partially open door.

"I'm glad you came. He keeps asking for you. We tried to tell him you were fine, but I don't think he'll be content until he sees you for himself."

The room contained almost nothing except a hospital bed. Momoshiro was lying on it, sunk into the pillow. On the tennis court, he always seemed big, but now he looked just as he had curled on the pavement with his limbs all wrong and blood making a curtain down his face. Then Momoshiro opened his eyes. They were a hazy, surrounded by pockets of bruised skin, but they were alive. He blinked, and the frighteningly blank expression disappeared.

"Yo," he said in a voice that was hoarse but recognizable.

Kaidoh stared. He felt his mouth forming words before he processed them. "That's all you've got to say to me after all this?"

Those half-moon eyes made a slow survey of the room, the tubes, and the beeping sound that Kaidoh's words seemed to encompass. His throat clicked, and with effort he said, "Yep. You got a problem with that, Mamushi?"

Hearing that stupid nickname, Kaidoh could have cried. Instead, he stepped closer. His gaze caught on the cast. Most of the damage was hidden beneath the blanket, but not that. Not his head, either, which was gristly in spite of the padding tapped over it. Momoshiro caught him looking and raised a feeble hand.

"Cut my hair," he said mournfully. "Got some stitches."

Kaidoh wanted to ask how hurt he was, if he was in pain, but in the end he said, "You look like you're being held together with staples and medical tape, and you're worried about your stupid hair?"

A wheeze that might have been a chuckle. "Some of us take pride in our masculine beauty."

Kaidoh scoffed. "It'll take a lot more than a haircut to make you less ugly."

"Says the guy whose face makes freshmen cry," Momo retorted.

The banter felt good, normal, but the effort had cost Momoshiro. His eyes drifted shut, his face going tight. The silence lengthened until Kaidoh got up the courage to speak. "I saw it happen. The truck."

Momo's eyes slide open. "I don't remember the truck."

"It lost control in front of the crosswalk, couldn't stop." Kaidoh didn't realize until that moment that his hands were shaking. He shoved them in his pockets, swallowing to banish any trace of a tremor when he spoke. "Well, at least you still have all your body parts."

"Be back to practice in no time," Momoshiro said, but it was a labored statement. There was too much knowledge between them, in the machines and the thick black stitches. It would be a while before he would hold a racket again, and Kaidoh was reminded of all the times he wished he could play tennis without having to deal with Momo's big mouth. He hadn't realized how much of a liar he was until right then.

"I should go."

"Kaidoh." Momoshiro's creaky voice stopped him at the door. "Can – can you do me a favor?"

"Do you want me to sneak you in a hamburger?"

That wheezy chuckle again. "No. I got a little cut up inside. No solid food for a while."

Unrest filled Kaidoh from his neck to his toes. He'd known. Of course he'd known. He forced his voice to remain even. "What then?"

"Echizen," Momoshiro said. The dark coloration around his eyes seemed to deepen, and the tight lines were back, too, making creases like zigzags of pain. "Could you bring him next time you come? Mom tried calling, but she couldn't reach him –"

Momoshiro's voice subsided, and Kaidoh decided then and there he was going to kick Echizen's ass the next time he saw him, emotional constipation or not. To Momo, he said, "I swear, if I have to drag him out of his house, I'll get him here."

Momoshiro sighed, sinking into the pillows. "Thanks, Kaidoh."

In his mind, Kaidoh remembered bicycle wheels spinning through a rainbow sheen of water on asphalt. A green crossing light, shining like a false promise. However, the relaxed look on Momoshiro's face, his chest rising and falling regularly, even the damned beeping, cast a reassuring spell. Momoshiro had survived the accident, would get well. Kaidoh could close the lens on those dark memories.

"Hey, dumbass," he said before he left.

An eye cracked open, a question mark in the slightly raised brow.

Kaidoh ducked his chin. "Get better fast, or I'll never forgive you."

How was it that Momoshiro could smile, even lying in a hospital bed, barely able to lift his head? "I'm glad you came," he said. Then his breathing lengthened, and he seemed to fall asleep.

Kaidoh shut the door carefully behind him. Nodding to Momo's mother, he reached for the button on the elevator, already thinking of his next destination. He might not be much of a friend in the traditional sense, but he and one other person were going to come back later this afternoon. After all, a promise was a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episode (99) _The Cursed Racket_, in which Momoshiro almost gets run over by a truck. Since Ryoma witnessed the whole thing, it got me thinking about how a friend _would_ react if Momo was hit while riding that ubiquitous bicycle of his. Since Ryoma would have shut down on me too much for a good story, cranky, sensitive Kaidoh got to take his place.


	2. Like Really Good Tennis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Ryoma asks Momoshiro about girls and almost gives him a stroke._

Ryoma rarely found time for people his own age, and so it came as something of a shock to him that he had somehow made friends at Seishun Gakuen. He actually had _four_ friends, or maybe it was six. It was hard to know if one included girls.

"Momo-senpai," he asked during their bike ride home. "Do you count girls as friends?"

"A hard question," Momo answered, but he was wearing an expression that made Ryoma suspicious he was being made fun of. "I would say definitely, except I guess it depends on whether you, you know, _really_ like her or something. Why? Are you making a roster?"

In retaliation, Ryoma ribbed, "Would you count Tachibana’s sister on your roster?"

He had the satisfaction of watching Momoshiro turn a deep red, which just proved that Ryoma wasn't nearly as socially backward as people made him out to be. Hadn't he been able to exploit Momoshiro’s emotional weakness twice now? That meant he _noticed_ Momo’s feelings.

Which brought him back to his original question. There were a lot of girls that hung around Ryoma, but he mostly ignored them. They were, overall, even less interesting than Horio, Kachiro, and Katsuo and had nothing to do with tennis. He didn't feel quite the same way about Sakuno, but that might be because she was related to Ryuzaki-sensei. How would he know if he _really_ liked her, as Momo suggested?

"We should talk about girls some more," Ryoma decided, which caused Momoshiro to choke on the tune he was whistling.

"Why do you want to talk about that?"

"You’re supposed to be my senpai, aren't you?"

"As if you actually think of me as your senpai," Momo muttered. "What exactly do you want to talk about?"

Ryoma considered asking about pornography just to see if Momoshiro would have a stroke, but then he might crash his bicycle, and Ryoma didn't want to walk home. Besides, he was honestly interested. "Girls. How do you know if you _really_ like them?

Momoshiro looked up at the sky, which was a cloud-speckled blue. "Well," he began. "You can feel it, I guess."

"What does it feel like?"

Picking at his collar, Momo asked, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather talk about tennis?"

"Momo-senpai," Ryoma scolded.

"Alright, alright. It feels weird, like something is squirming around in your belly, but you kind of like it. And it's warm, definitely warm. And kind of scary?"

Ryoma stared. "Are you sure you know what you're talking about, Senpai?"

Now it was Momo’s turn to rebuke. "You asked me to tell you, and I told you. If you don't like it, then don't ask stupid questions."

Ryoma realized he'd made a mistake and was regretful. He enjoyed teasing his friend; however, he didn't like the injured look Momo was wearing, or how his eyes were averted, or the way his fingers had become tense on the handlebars of his bike. Ryoma leaned over Momoshiro’s shoulder. "Sorry, Momo-senpai."

Momoshiro huffed, but he wasn't like Kaidoh, who'd been known to stalk off and not talk to him for days when affronted, or like Tezuka, whose approval required hard work to earn once you lost it, or even like Sakuno, who would have cried. Momo-senpai didn't work like that. Instead, he simply tossed a grin over his shoulder, and all was forgiven. Ryoma breathed a little easier.

"I still don't understand about girls."

"I didn't either until not too long ago," Momo admitted. "I mean, I always _noticed_ them, I guess, but I didn't really feel anything."

"Did that change recently?" A hint of teasing found its way back into Ryoma’s voice. He was thinking of their encounter with a girl in a spandex skirt, waving to them at the edge of the street-tennis courts and smiling – it seemed to Ryoma – just a little more favorably on Momoshiro than on anyone else.

Perhaps Momo was thinking of the same thing, because he’d turned that funny shade of pink again. "Maybe."

Leaning back, Ryoma thought about time he’d spent with Sakuno, trying to remember if she made him feel weird or warm or afraid. Momo seemed to understand he was having difficulty, because he interrupted.

"Let me try again. You know that feeling when you walk on the court and your stomach flips when you realize your opponent is really good? And your heart starts beating hard, and your hands get clammy around the racket, and you feel hot and excited and nervous all at the same time?"

Ryoma felt a shiver of remembrance. "Of course."

"Well, it’s something like that."

Sakuno did make him feel different. He didn't mind her, sometimes even felt inclined to make space for her among the other things in his life. Her hair was sort of pretty, even if it was too long for good tennis, and she smelled nice. But she didn't bring anything like the same emotion as walking onto the court with anticipation singing under his skin and in his heart.

"I don't think I’ve felt that way about anyone yet,” he concluded.

The older boy shrugged. "I wouldn't worry about. It's one of those things that happens on its own. Although," he said, casting back a cheeky look, "you’re such a pipsqueak, it might take a while."

Ryoma tapped his chin. "You know, Momo-senpai, I think I'm going to talk to Tachibana-san. He would probably want to know that you have designs on his sister."

"Designs?" Momoshiro said incredulously, a second before the full impact of Ryoma’s threat hit him and he practically ran them off the road with his sudden swerve. He braked hard, sending Ryoma plowing into his back. "Echizen, you wouldn’t."

"Maybe An would like it," Ryoma suggested. "You can’t be indecisive forever, Senpai."

Momoshiro swallowed, looking perplexed and a little sick to his stomach. A short, jerky shake of his head was the only acknowledgement, and then he kicked off the ground and began peddling again. He didn't say much for the remainder of the ride home, seeming to be deep in contemplation, and, whatever he was thinking about, the back of his neck was streaked red.

Ryoma considered. It seemed that Momo-senpai did like someone who made him feel as though he was about to play really good tennis. The problem was he wasn’t doing anything about it. Fudomine’s Kamio was clearly an opponent, but Momo didn't seem willing to engage. At this rate he was going to lose. Ryoma decided to call Fuji-senpai when he got home. If they were going to help Momoshiro, they would need to start strategizing. After all, Momo-senpai deserved to be happy, and what made one happier than victory?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episode (71) _It’s a Date_. Who didn’t love seeing Ryoma exploit Momoshiro’s painful embarrassment in this episode? Playful, devious Ryoma is a personal favorite; he’s so serious most of the time that I love seeing him tease his friend in episodes like this one and episode (21) _Is the Tennis Court Burning Up?_ As a side note, the Seigaku match-making brigade is terrifying.


	3. Of Older Brothers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Yuuta and Fuji are out shopping when they run into Momoshiro with his little brother. For Yuuta, watching them together brings back memories._

The overhead lights of the department store lit up the interior and its rows of store fronts and vendors. Hands shoved deep in his pockets, Fuji Yuuta ambled past them, unable to stop himself from feeling self-conscious. He glanced sideways, where his brother walked with perfect composure as always.

Shuusuke chuckled. “You’re so tense, Yuuta. Is going out with me really such a chore?”

Though the comment was lightly made, Yuuta still grimaced. Ever since the match between their schools, the two brothers had made an effort to reconnect, but years of strain had made their relationship uneasy. Perhaps that was the reason Yuuta jerked his head to the side, muttering, “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”

His remark provoked a rare downward curve to his brother’s mouth, but there was no time for Yuuta to feel guilty because at that moment a loud voice hailed them, or, more accurately, his brother: “Oye, Fuji-senpai!”

Shuusuke’s usual pleasant expression was back in place as some guy jogged over. Yuuta recognized him as one of the other Seigaku regulars, the one who’d bickered with his doubles partner during intervals and then knocked out Yanagisawa with the most powerful overhead shot Yuuta had ever seen. His stomach sank at this approach, feeling even more awkward being with his brother in the presence of one of his teammates. 

“Momoshiro,” Shuusuke greeted. “What a surprise. Yuuta and I were just running errands.”

Momoshiro flashed Yuuta a look of recognition. “You’re the one who played Echizen. What a great match. I’m glad I didn’t have to face your Super Rising shot!” 

Yuuta shifted beneath the unexpected praise. “Ah, thanks.”

Shuusuke’s attention, meanwhile, had shifted. He remarked, “Oh, is this one of your siblings, Momo? You have two, don’t you.”

For the first time, Yuuta noticed that Momoshiro wasn’t alone. He was standing with a scrappy-looking kid wearing an elementary school uniform. The boy was gripping Momoshiro’s hand and looking up at the Fuji brothers with interest.

Momoshiro laughed. “Yeah. My little sister is home today, but this is Sato.”

Bending over, Shuusuke addressed the boy. “You must be Momo’s little brother.”

Yuuta flinched out of instinct, the sting of that remark still present even when it wasn’t directed at him, but to his surprise the kid puffed up his chest, declaring, “Yeah! Onii-chan took me to get my first real racket today. Look!”

Proudly, he thrust forward a skinny arm, showing off a brand new junior-sized racket. He was also wearing a sweat band, which he’d pushed up in obvious imitation of his brother’s usual style.

Momoshiro put a hand on the boy’s head, tousling his hair. “Sato is six today. That’s old enough to start playing seriously, don’t you think?”

Yuuta hadn’t thought it was possible for Sato to look any more pleased, but his eyes were shinning as he stared at his brother. In an outburst of happiness, he threw his arms around Momoshiro’s waist, squeezing. “Onii-chan is gonna teach me everything!”

Witnessing this, Yuuta experience a profound pang of sorrow. His mind wandered back, remembering a time when he, too, had clung to his older brother like that. With an effort, he could even recall their earliest days on the tennis court, when playing together had still been fun. They were good memories.

Momoshiro was making his excuses for leaving. “We’re having a birthday celebration tonight, and my parents will kill me if we’re late.”

As they walked away, Sato waving his racket precariously, Yuuta overheard him say, “Nii-chan, was that Fuji-san’s little brother?”

Momoshiro swung the boy up onto his shoulders, making him squeal. “Watch where you’re swinging that thing, brat.”

Then they were gone, and Yuuta and his brother were alone again. It might have been his imagination, but Shuusuke seemed quieter than before. Wordlessly, he turned and began walking again. Yuuta had to jog to catch up, his own mind preoccupied. For some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking of the punch to the gut he’d felt watching Momoshiro with his kid brother. Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He froze in the middle of the walkway.

“Aniki,” he said.

Shuusuke turned, surprised. “Yes?”

Yuuta looked at the tiles beneath his feet, heat rising to his face. “I just wanted to say, you’re not a chore. I don’t mind doing errands with you.”

There was a pause, and this time is his brother smiled. “Ah, I’m glad, Yuuta. Shall we get started?”

They spent the rest of the afternoon going from store to store, stretching out the hours before they would have to part ways, since Yuuta was expected to return to the St. Rudoph dormitory that night. Somewhere along the way, Yuuta’s self-consciousness faded, and he relaxed. Their past wasn’t perfect, and things might never be as they once were, but maybe the good times didn’t have to be over. Even if he was too old to hold Shuusuke’s hand, he could still have his big brother in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on _Tokyo Preliminary – St. Rudolph Arc_ episodes starting with (29), and _PairPuri #2._ Sibling relationships are complicated, and I really felt for Yuuta and Fuji. Momoshiro’s siblings, by contrast, don’t have any meaningful screen time, but I bet he’s an awesome big brother. After all, as we saw in (72) _Kaoru Becomes Ryoma_, even the neighborhood kids call him Momo-nii-chan.


	4. Out of the Corner of my Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Atobe isn’t impressed by Momoshiro at first glance, but time reveals some unexpected characteristics._

The first time Atobe saw him, it was through the gaps of a chain link fence while Seigaku was battling Gyokurin, and even then he only took notice of Momoshiro because he was on his knees beside the freshmen rookie who’d aroused everyone's interest. The punitive pose suggested the two had lost, but the scoreboard said otherwise.

_'Curious,'_ Atobe thought, and then he passed the court and forgot all about it.

Their second meeting was hardly more favorable. Momoshiro seemed as common as they came. A flashy hairstyle, a brash personality, a cocksure attitude: the only interesting thing about him was the eyes, which were a fierce, lively violet. Even so, Atobe expected their little skirmish to last less than a minute.

_'Pedestrian,'_ Atobe thought, and then he made himself comfortable while Kabaji tore this mediocre pair apart.

Except it didn't happen that way. Momoshiro sent the ball hissing past Atobe's ear, spraying his back with sand. He knew how heavy that shot was from the sound it made as it bounced, yet the aim had been intentional, meant to _just_ miss him. It had been a challenge, and not many had the audacity to challenge Atobe Keigo.

_'Foolhardy,'_ Atobe thought as Kabaji returned the shot directly into Momoshiro's body.

Momoshiro fell, but not before turning his racket with reflexes Atobe could hardly believe, sending the ball arching back over onto their side of the net. Atobe had been so impressed he'd allowed Momoshiro to succeed in rescuing Tachibana's spirited sister. He'd taken his name, too, as a show of respect.

_'Unexpected,'_ Atobe thought as he made his way down the steps from the street-tennis court.

Leading up to the Kanto Tournament, Atobe had plenty of time to reflect on Seigaku, including Momoshiro. He learned the sophomore was an aggressive baseliner, best known for his impressive kill shot, a midair smash considered above junior high level. He was a relative novice to tournament play, however, and his reputation for being tenaciously offensive was actually disappointing.

_'Primitive,'_ Atobe thought, writing Momoshiro off as unsophisticated, all strength and no subtlety.

The next time they met, Atobe didn't expect Momoshiro to be in doubles as a last-minute replacement for half of the famed Golden Pair. “So, you can play doubles after all, Momoshiro,” Oshitari said. “When you told us you sucked, was that your plan?" It was unusual for Oshitari, who didn't usually engage in banter. Atobe wondered at the spark of interest.

_'Puzzling,'_ he thought, crossing his arms. What was it that made Momoshiro stand out?

Atobe caught a glimpse at the critical moment, when Momoshiro slid into Oshitari's drop shot and seized control of the match. The next few movements were like choreography, and realization struck with stunning strength. Although he was still in chrysalis, Momoshiro was one of Atobe's own ilk. Those weren't lucky guesses. That was Insight.

Yet even setting up his opponent’s shots wouldn't be enough. _'Naive,'_ Atobe thought as Momoshiro flew through the air into Oshitari's waiting trap.

However, Atobe had been wrong to think of Momoshiro as boorish. He was smart. Smart enough to know his opponent's mind. Smart enough to set his own trap. Atobe saw Oshitari's eyes fly open, far too late. Momoshiro let the ball pass to the waiting Kikumaru, ending the game with the sound of Seigaku's blustery cheer rising over the stunned silence of the Hyotei spectators.

_'Crafty,'_ Atobe thought, feeling as though he were seeing the real Momoshiro for the first time.

After that, it was a waiting game. During a team shuffle at Seigaku’s rundown forest retreat, Momoshiro’s match with acrobatic Mukahi removed much of Atobe’s doubt about the kind of player Momo would eventually become. It quickly became clear he’d been toying with his opponent from the beginning, using him as a guinea pig. Watching from his comfortable chair, Atobe had dipped his chin in approval.

_‘Closer,’_ he thought, sifting the ice in his drink back and forth. But not yet.

They met Seigaku for the final time at Nationals, with Momoshiro at Singles 3. Atobe saw their resident stoic clenching his hand around the handle of his racket as he stepped onto the court. Rarely had Atobe seen Oshitari so eager. He looked across at Momoshiro, who seemed calm, even tranquil, and a smiled negotiated with the edges of Atobe’s mouth.

_'Awake?'_ he thought, wondering if it had finally happened.

The answer to his question was confirmed by the very first breeze. Atobe watched the yellow ball shiver in the air, dropping onto the baseline on Oshitari's side of the court. Momoshiro showed all his teeth while the crowd murmured. Accident? Not likely, Atobe thought, but Oshitari wasn’t called a genius for nothing.

Seizing back momentum, he forced a mistake. All it took was a wild attempt at a return, a moment of lost footing, and then there was a metallic sound as Momoshiro crashed into the fence face first. 

_'Reckless,'_ Atobe thought, gritting his teeth. Momo’s teammates rushed to his side.

The blood was running freely down Momoshiro's face. Atobe could see it from where he sat on the bench. Worse still, he looked stunned; it took him two tries to take the racket Echizen offered him. When he walked back onto the court, his expression was determined but pained. Atobe caught Oshitari's eye. A long, drawn-out match. That was the winning strategy. 

_'Unfortunate,'_ Atobe thought with a small measure of regret. He would have liked to see this play out at game level.

The rest of the match proved he needed to stop trying to predict the course of events in matches featuring Momoshiro Takashi. Somehow he’d managed to break Atobe's cool, collected prodigy. He'd never seen Oshitari play like that. Combustion. That's what it was, and it had happened because of Momo. Had this always been beneath Oshitari’s sedate surface? 

_'Catalytic,’_ Atobe thought as the two blazed away at one another.

"I'm sorry," Oshitari told him after he’d won, but not with real remorse. Atobe understood. This had been an important breakthrough for him, and as he’d said, one didn't get a chance to face a guy like Momoshiro often.

Which is why Atobe nodded graciously. "It's alright. I'm not sure I could have kept my cool either." It was a great compliment. He wondered if someone like Momoshiro would be sensible to it.

Probably not.

Still, as they were preparing to depart, defeated but not demolished, Atobe had decided to take a detour. He caught the sophomore alone at a vending machine, where he was fishing out two sweating Ponta, both dripping in the heat of the day.

"Momoshiro," Atobe said.

Straightening, Momo blinked. "Atobe-san. I thought you guys left already. Did you forget something?"

There was something about the way Momoshiro spoke to him that Atobe found curious. He tried to think of what it was. As Momo put his hand behind his head, scratching, Atobe realized. It was that he treated him like an upperclassman of his own school rather than as a rival. Strongly amused, Atobe thought, _'Do you think of me as your senpai, Momoshiro?'_

It gave him the impetus to speak with directness. "Today, I was impressed."

Momoshiro seemed stunned. "Impressed?"

"Yes," Atobe admitted. "You've always managed to surprise me."

"Ano," the sophomore was doing that thing again, where he scratched his head and looked confused.

_'Wily,'_ Atobe thought with affection, but he wasn't about to be fooled again. "Once you've finally stopped playing around, I'll be looking forward to facing you, Momoshiro Takashi."

That, at least, had a predictable effect. "Of course, Atobe-san," Momoshiro said, his eyes laughing. He gave the senior a sly look. "There are a few things I've been meaning to ask you about that _Koori no Sekai_ of yours."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episode (22) _Kaoru’s Troubles_, wherein Momoshiro first manages to impress Atobe, and OVA (9) _Heart Not Giving In_, which is about my favorite match in the series. Atobe and Momoshiro may not seem to have a lot in common, but it’s interesting to think that Atobe’s original style is extremely offensive and that both use a kind of Insight. Momoshiro could use a mentor, and although this is playing off tiny moments rather than sticking strictly to cannon, I’d like to pretend it could happen.


	5. Birth of a Rivalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _When Momoshiro, the boy who wants to be loved by everybody, first encounters his future rival, he can’t figure out why Kaidoh only wants to fight._  


The first time it happened, Momoshiro Takashi, the boy who wanted to be loved by everybody, was blatantly confused. He looked at the yellow bandana thrust in his face and then at the person holding it. "Huh?"

"You," said the other boy. "You're the one who got it dirty."

That was true. Momoshiro had been changing when he saw the familiar bandana under his foot. He'd recognized it because its owner, a freshman named Kaidoh, wore the same one every day. He didn't really get Kaidoh. He was one of those people who always seemed aggravated, which wasn't Momo's style at all. Still, he'd picked up the handkerchief and put it back in Kaidoh's locker without thinking any more about it. Until now.

Well, since he'd done it, he'd better say sorry. Putting a hand on the back of his neck, Momo said, "Ah, my bad, Kaidoh."

To his bewilderment, his friendly gesture only caused Kaidoh to bristle further. "Don't you even have the decency to apologize properly?"

Hadn't he apologized? What was Kaidoh upset about anyway? It was just a stinky bandana. "Gee, Kaidoh. Don't be mad. It's no big deal."

To his surprise, he found the front of his shirt snatched in two fists. Teeth gritted, Kaidoh got right in Momo’s face. "No big deal?"

Instinct made Momo’s own hands come up, and his blood was suddenly pounding. His temperature spiked. Adrenaline pulsed through him. Still, he held back, unsure. He wasn't used to confrontation. He liked everyone, and everyone liked him. What was this guy's problem?

Unrelenting, Kaidoh's grip only became fiercer. "I said apologize already!"

"I _have_ apologized, you jerk."

"Do you think everything is a game? That stupid grin on your face all the time is obnoxious!"

Genuinely affronted, Momoshiro retaliated with unusual furor. "You're one to talk about stupid faces, Kaidoh, with that weird snake thing you do."

At that point their quarrel was interrupted by two upper classmen, Seigaku-regular Oishi and another second year, Inui Sadaharu. However, they were so embroiled in their fight that Momo had gone right on grappling with Kaidoh until they knocked Oishi into a locker and a basket of balls fell over his head. Several dozen punitive sprints later, Momoshiro grimly untied the tire harness from his sore stomach and refused to return the glare he felt on his back. Let Kaidoh stew all he wanted. He'd gotten Momoshiro in trouble with their senpai, and that could not happen again. Momo was done with him.

At least that was the plan, but it was as if the asshole was stalking him. Every time he picked up his racket or was assigned to gather balls, Kaidoh was there challenging him. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred swings wasn't enough. It got so bad they were having to run laps every day for fighting.

Finally, in total frustration, Momoshiro slammed down his belongings in the clubroom, where Oishi saw him. "You shouldn't mistreat your racket that way," he rebuked, but kindly, because Oishi-senpai was always kind. "Is something bothering you?"

Collapsing onto the bench, Momo stuck out his chin and tried to get his emotions under control. Finally, he let out a long exhale and put his elbows on his knees. "Kaidoh hates me, and it's driving me crazy."

Oishi sat down beside him. "I've noticed you two can't seem to get along."

"I don't get it," Momoshiro said, familiar dissatisfaction welling up again. "I've tried being nice, but he won't let me. I _try_ to ignore him, but I can't do that either!"

"You know, I think you might be misunderstanding Kaidoh's intentions," Oishi said. "Most of the time, we don't compete with people we have no respect for."

"Respect?" Momo asked, puzzled.

The older boy nodded. "Eiji and I were like that at first. We butted heads, but it wasn't because we hated either other. Maybe Kaidoh thinks of you as a rival. Someone he'd like to surpass."

Momoshiro knew he was good at tennis. He was already feeling out his own style and enjoyed the rush of competition. That, combined with natural talent, usually made it possible for him to beat players much older than himself. However, he hadn't yet encountered the kind of opponent that made tennis feel like a battle. He scratched his head. "Rival?"

Oishi mussed his hair. "Don't worry so much, Momo. I'm sure you and Kaidoh will work out your differences eventually."

Oishi hadn't been right about that, but something did happen the next day that changed everything. Perhaps it was a word whispered in the right ear, but Momoshiro found himself staring across the net at Kaidoh Kaoru, who had on a face like murder. Momo had seen him play, and knew that he had a forehand shot called the Snake. Fairly dramatic, if you asked him. It couldn't be that good.

They set up, and Momoshiro started with his usual aggressive style. Kaidoh returned every shot. Impressed, Momo continued the rally, certain he'd find his opportunity eventually, and that's when it happened. He hit a shot to the far left, and suddenly Kaidoh was shifting strangely. His racket struck, and the ball made an arc that crossed the entire court and skipped right by Momoshiro's feet. Snake!

Momoshiro stared at the yellow ball, which rolled across the ground. He hadn't even been able to move, he'd been so surprised. He looked up at Kaidoh, whose arm was still raised, and Momo’s heart started to beat harder. Something. Something about seeing that shot...

Slowly, he went back to his starting position, bending his knees, his grip on his racket tightening. He'd always enjoyed tennis, but now there was something hot thrumming in his veins, something that made him – for the very first time – deadly serious. He met Kaidoh's glare, feeling the burn as they clashed, and responded to it wholeheartedly for the first time.

Rivals? Well, fine. Because there was no way he was going to let that bastard get away with an amazing shot like that. He would see how Kaidoh felt about a dunk smash right in his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the flashbacks in episodes (29) _Momo and Viper_ and (167) _Eternal Rivals._ The series gave us the opportunity to see the beginning of this famous rivalry from Kaidoh's perspective, but what about Momo? For a self-professed “nice guy", it had to be bewildering to encounter someone like Kaidoh. So when did it first click?


	6. Like Father, Like Son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _Momoshiro meets Ryoma’s father officially, but only after mistaking him for a pervert._

Despite their growing closeness, there were some things that Momoshiro didn’t really understand about Echizen. How he managed to be so proud, for one thing, despite being such a squirt. He’d never known anyone more likely to pick a fight, at least when it came to tennis. His stubbornness and rude behavior was a mystery, right up until the day that it wasn’t, and that revelation came with an invitation to dinner.

“Huh,” Momoshiro said, peering around the large common area which lead out onto a porch, beyond which he could see a traditional Japanese-style garden. He leaned back against the tatami mat he was sitting on. “Your house is so old-fashioned.”

Echizen was wearing his usual expression, which was a cross between annoyance and dismissal. He deigned to comment, “Of course it’s old-fashioned. My family does help maintain the temple, after all. The one up there.”

He pointed, and Momo could just see the walls and slopping rooftops of a Buddhist temple on a summit over the neighboring houses. The faint peal of the evening bell was just now fading. “The temple, huh? I thought you were kidding when you said you worked there, sometimes.”

“No,” Echizen answered. He was picking at a loose string on his socks.

Momoshiro was just about to make a comment about Echizen ending up a bald monk when footsteps outside caught his attention. It was at that moment a man wearing a black robe rounded the corner, industriously picking at something in his ear. The intruder looked up as he reached the door, and Momoshiro’s mouth fell open in recognition.

“Echizen! What is that perverted monk doing in your house?”

A brief moment of silence followed his declaration, and then an astonishing thing happened. Quietly at first, and then so hard that he had to hold his stomach, Echizen started laughing. Momoshiro hadn’t known he even knew _how_ to laugh, yet here he was, doubled over.

The man in the doorway looked cross. “I see you brought that mouthy punk home with you.”

Offended, Momoshiro demanded, “What’s it to you? I was invited.”

“Oh?” the man sneered. “Well, this is _my_ house, and I’m _uninviting_ you.”

“Your house?” Momo asked incredulously. “Who are you, Echizen’s grandpa?”

The man’s eyes bulged even as Echizen’s laugher rose another key. “What do you mean, ‘grandpa’?”

Further confrontation was averted by the sudden arrival of Nanako, who poked her head around the corner from the kitchen, a smile on her face. “Ryoma, what’s going on? I never hear you sound so happy. Oh, Takeshi-kun! Are you staying for dinner?”

“No, he is not,” said the man in the black robe.

“Uncle,” chided the girl. “Don’t be so impolite to Ryoma’s little friend. I’ll just go prepare another portion.”

She disappeared just as she had come, leaving Momoshiro and the interloper to glare at each other. Echizen had recovered, although he was still wearing a smile that was just a little too smug for comfort. “Momo-senpai,” he said. “I know he doesn’t look like much, but this is my father, Echizen Nanjiro.”

Nanjiro tucked his hands into his sleeves and stared off to the side. “Che, _that’s_ your introduction? What the hell happened to make this generation so disrespectful?”

Momoshiro had heard a lot about Echizen Nanjiro, a legendary tennis player who went into early retirement just before he achieved a Grand Slam title. He also knew his friend’s tennis style was based on his father’s. Looking at this scruffy, slouching guy, Momo felt let down. It must have shown on his face, too, because Nanjiro’s theatrical moodiness took a serious turn, his eyes gaining sudden sharp edges.

“You doubt me, punk?”

Momoshiro couldn’t help it. He grinned. After all, that whetted, reptilian look was one he recognized. Momo reclined backwards, relaxing. “You willing to prove it, old man?”

“You –” Nanjiro began, eye twitching. “I hope you’re man enough to have brought a racket, because I’m going to enjoy bringing your cocky ass down a notch.”

Momoshiro rubbed his hands together, already getting pumped; however, before he could accept, Echizen interrupted. “No way, Momo-senpai,” he said. “You promised you’d watch that movie with me tonight. In English.”

Disappointed, Momoshiro appealed, “Come on, Echizen. A tennis match with your dad sounds like fun.”

Nanjiro looked equally unhappy. His hands dangled, and his face had gone slack with surprise. Maybe it was a shock that Echizen had turned down a tennis-related activity. That _was_ pretty rare. It must be a great video, even if Momo would have to read the subtitles.

“Boy, don’t interfere,” Echizen’s father stammered, but he was staring into the face of his equal for stubbornness.

Echizen crossed his arms. “No.”

Well, there wasn’t any use arguing in that case. Momoshiro sighed. “Sorry, old man,” he said. “Maybe next time?”

Nanjiro harrumphed. “Don’t presume there’ll be a next time. Arrogant brat. How did my son get such bad taste in friends?”

He continued grumbling all the way around the corner and out of sight, until they heard the thump of a body hitting wooden panels. Apparently, the man had decided to lounge outside until dinner. Momoshiro didn’t realize he was chuckling until Echizen prodded him in the side with one of his boney fingers.

“Ouch, Echizen. What do you want?”

“What are you laughing about?” his friend asked. He was pouting already, which meant provoking him wasn’t exactly smart. After all, Momoshiro _did_ want to eat tonight, and he’d already been uninvited once. Still, never let it be said that Momoshiro Takeshi wasn’t honest.

He grinned. “I just figured out where you get your stunning personality.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episodes (10) _Counterattack! Sasabe Again_ and (24) _Ryoma’s Day Off_, wherein Momoshiro and Nanjiro butt heads over bicycles and bond over Ryoma.


	7. At the End of Her Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tachibana experiences the suffering of all big brothers when An decides to bring a boy home with her._

Tachibana wasn’t aware his sister had her sights set on a boy until the day she brought him home with her. His bedroom window was propped open, and the breeze carried An’s cheerful, piping voice. He leaned out to greet her, and that was when he saw she wasn't alone. Ambling at her side was a lanky boy in a yellow t-shirt; in fact, a figure Tachibana knew well. It was Seigaku regular, Momoshiro Takeshi.

For a moment, Tachibana wondered what Momoshiro was doing with An, but he quickly worked out Momo must have offered to walk her home from the street-tennis court. It was just the kind of gesture expected of a chivalrous guy like Momoshiro, and Tachibana was about to pull his head back inside when he saw his sister reach out and twist their fingers together.

Momoshiro, who had up to that point appeared relaxed and casual, stiffened, but An took no notice except to swing their arms as they walked the last few steps to the gate. Once there, An waved. "Bye bye!"

Tachibana continued to watch Momoshiro after the door shut. The boy looked down at his upturned palm, the same he used every day to hold his racket for that ridiculous overhead shot of his. Finally, with one last glance at the house, he left. Tachibana watched until he heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Onii-chan, are you spying?"

"Your boyfriend seems a little bewildered," Tachibana responded, turning from the window.

An put her fingers over her mouth to cover a giggle. "Would you believe that he’s shy?"

Tachibana had seen the color Momo turned when An threaded their fingers together. Even so, shy wasn’t exactly a word he would have chosen. What Tachibana did know was that Momoshiro was a good person, the kind who stood up for those weaker than him. This probably meant he could be trusted with his sister.

Still. "Did it have to be one of them?"

"Them?" An pressed one small finger to her glossy lip, though she knew perfectly well what he meant.

Tachibana had made peace with his team’s defeat at the hands of Seigaku’s formidable tennis club, but even if he had come to realize that their meteoric rise was like the tail of a comet, a rare cosmic event which couldn’t be stopped, that didn't mean he was ready for his sister to date one of them. He gave An a pointed look.

"What, you don't like Momoshiro-kun?"

Tachibana made an exasperated noise, knowing just how little his opinion counted. An was a stubborn girl; once she made up her mind about something, that was it. Which begged the question.

"Seriously. Why him?"

An smiled again, but not the cheeky one from before. This was softer around the edges of her mouth, and her eyes seemed to reach beyond the room they were standing in. She looked down the road where Momo had disappeared. "I think it was when he faced Atobe, that night at the street-tennis court."

Tachibana frowned. He’d heard about that from Kamio, and it had taken all his restraint to keep from going after that bastard for daring to put a hand on his sister.

An adjusted one of her barrettes. "He touched my hair, but not in a gentle way. And then he kept calling me ’Tachibana’s little sister’, even after I gave him my cute first name to use."

Tachibana was confused. "You liked him because he wasn't interested in you?"

An’s eyes twinkled. "Maybe a little. But mostly it was how he played tennis. I know he seems laidback, but something comes out when he’s on the court. He’s passionate, and he doesn't hold anything back. It makes me happy just watching him."

Tachibana considered. "You...like his tennis style."

An giggled again. "It doesn't hurt that he’s really handsome, don't you think, Onii-chan?"

Wearing the grimace of put-upon big brothers everywhere, Tachibana raised his hands as though to ward off the mental image of his sister being in any way physically attracted to a boy. He was starting to feel nauseated. "Don't talk about that," he said.

An ignored him, pondering aloud. "Next time he walks me home, I should stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. Maybe he’ll turn even redder than before."

Or maybe he would have his act together enough to kiss her back. That look on his face as he walked away... Uncomfortable, Tachibana looked at his little sister. She was no longer an inconvenient brat who followed him around, holding onto the edge of his tennis racket. She was a young woman.

And she had chosen Momoshiro Takeshi, heaven help him.

"If he ever hurts you, I'll kill him," Tachibana said seriously, because wasn't that what brothers were supposed to say?

An laughed at him. "Oh, Onii-chan," she said. "You should be more worried about Momoshiro-kun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episode (22) _Kaoru’s Troubles_ and (71) _It’s a Date!_ An Tachibana really grew on me; she and Momoshiro have an entertaining dynamic which is only enhanced by poor Kamio’s hysterics. An is right, by the way; when a girl says it’s a date, then it’s a date.


	8. The Family Who Plays Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _Tezuka-jii-chan has had enough of his grandchildren’s wild behavior. Unbeknownst to him, his attempt to reform them will have a long-term affect on the entire family._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episodes (132) _The Zany Teni-Puri Family_ and (167) _The Teni-Puri Family Goes to Hawaii._ For those of your who haven’t seen them, these highly comedic episodes turn the Seigaku tennis club into a family, adjusting gender and age accordingly.
>
>> Oishi – Shuuko (Mother)  
Inui – Sadaharu (Father)  
Tezuka – (Grandfather)  
Fuji – (Grandmother)  
Ryoma – (Male, third grade)  
Momoshiro – Momoko (Female, second grade)  
Kaidoh – Kaoru-chan (Male, toddler)  
Eiji – Kikumaru (Cat :D )

"Sadaharu-san, are you sure this is a good idea," Shuuko wondered. Her mind was filled with shattered dishes, broken lamp stands, punctured sliding doors, and a dozen other possible targets for the items her father was pulling out of his bag.

Sadaharu was looking downcast, his knees slightly bent. "Possibility of permanent damage to the house: 98 percent." However, he seemed to have already resigned himself to the situation. There wasn't much chance of changing Tezuka-jii-chan's mind once he'd made it up.

He stated it now as the two rackets appeared in his hands, just as he had before: "Those two are out of control. Some discipline will do them good."

"Perhaps Ojii-san is right," said Fuji-baa-chan, wearing a deceptively tranquil smile. "They have been somewhat disruptive lately."

That was an understatement. Ryoma's homeroom teacher seemed to call every day with a new complaint, and Momoko was on probation for making one of the boys in her class cry. Yet very little Shuuko or Sadaharu had done helped. The most recent assault on Ojii-chan's beloved bonsai seemed the last straw. He had stalked out of the house, and now he was back with this new development.  
Shuuko, however, was still unsure. "Aren't they a little young for tennis?"

"Nonsense," Tezuka grunted. "Momoko's just the right age, and Ryoma should have already started. Go ahead and call them."

Despite her misgivings, Shuuko went to get her children from their room. She wished it surprised her to find Ryoma sitting on his writhing baby brother while Momoko tickled his feet, but that would be giving them too much credit. She carried the weepy toddler back outside while the two offenders marched in front of her.

Although Ryoma had been scowling, he stopped when he saw what his grandfather was holding. "Ojii, what's that?"

Tezuka held out two junior rackets, one yellow with black stripes and the other purple. "They're tennis rackets. You two are going to learn to do something productive, starting today. We've all had enough of your wild behavior."

Ryoma pouted, but it was clearly a token effort. His eyes were gleaming. "You're going to teach us?"

"Hm. If you deserve it," said Tezuka as he held out the equipment. "Here."

Shuuko heard an eager hiss and saw that Kaoru was squirming. He reached for his big brother, who was already swinging his toy, delighting in the whistling sound it made as it swished through the air. "Now, now," she said, patting his bottom. "You're too little."

Kaoru looked devastated, but Fuji chuckled. "Poor Kaoru-chan. You can play with this for right now." She handed him a bright neon tennis ball, which he gasped in both hands. A bell tinkled as Kikumaru stretched at their feet, tail lashing. No doubt the two of them would soon be batting the ball back and forth across the yard, totally content.

That left Momoko. Surprised that she didn't hear her daughter's riotous voice, Shuuko saw the little girl was gripping the edge of her dress and staring at her feet, uncharacteristically quiet. "Aren't you going to say thank you to Ojii-chan, Momoko?"

She took the racket that her grandfather handed her, but only moved it in a gentle arc, back and forth. Frowning, she muttered, "I don't wanna learn tennis."

"Momoko," Shuusuke scolded. "What an impolite thing to say. Be a little more lady-like. Maybe if you did, you wouldn’t get in so much trouble at school."

Her daughter stuck out her lip, stubbornness only enhanced by the band-aids on her face from yesterday’s scuffle. She crossed her arms, racket sticking out awkwardly.

"Why did you get into a fight again, Momoko?" asked Fuji-baa-chan.

The little girl muttered, "Arai-kun tried to hold my hand under the table, and I didn't like it, so I kicked him."

Shuuko sighed while her mother chuckled. Momoko had never been a difficult child like Ryoma, who made enemies faster than friends and turned a disparaging eye on practically everything. However, though she wore her hair in braids and cuddled teddy bears, she had also arm wrestled every child in her class into submission, had the rudest way of talking, and was generally muddier, stickier, and louder than any little girl had a right to be. It wasn't just that she was a tomboy. Momoko had extraordinary spirit, but unfortunately most of that whirlwind energy went into following her brother into mischief and persecuting the boys in her class for daring to admire her.

"Kirihara tried to kiss her once," Ryoma chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "She slugged him, right in the face. Pow! There was blood all over."

Momoko glared at her shoes as though expecting a reprimand, but Tezuka-jii-chan surprised them all by patting her head. "It's good you didn't let your guard down."

A smile broke out on Momoko's face. Hugging the racket to her chest, she said, "Thank you, Ojii-chan."

Ryoma, meanwhile, had reached the threshold of his very meager patience and began thrashing with renewed vigor, sending blades of grass in every direction. "Can we start now? Can we?"

"One more thing." Tezuka opened the shopping bag back up.

"Oh, you went all out, I see," Fuji said with approval.

Out of the bag came sweatbands and a new polo shirt for Ryoma, plus a visor and a cute spandex skirt. Momoko griped as she held up the pale pink material. "Why do I have to wear a skirt? It looks silly."

"You wear track shorts under it," Tezuka said gruffly. "Now quit complaining and go change."

As the children ran off with their new rackets and apparel, Sadaharu made one last attempt to mitigate the damage. "Are you sure they'll be able to keep the balls on the court and away from anything breakable?"

"Court?" Tezuka-jii-chan put his hands behind his back. "No hitting balls for weeks. They'll be swinging those rackets until they lose feeling in their arms. We'll see just how much trouble they can get into while they're running laps around the house."

As one, the remaining adults sweat-dropped. However, as she watched Kaoru-chan happily push the tennis ball across the yard for Kikumaru to pounce on, Shuuko began to smile. She didn't know why, but intuitively she felt that something had shifted in the Seishun family today. Never before had she seen that look of interest on Ryoma's face, and if all went well, Momoko would finally have a suitable outlet for her aggressive nature. Perhaps they would all benefit from a little tennis in their lives.

Mind made up, she asked, "Ojii-chan, where did you say you bought those rackets again?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my head, Ryoma grows to become the same amazing tennis player from the regular series, while Momoko plays on the women’s team and is best friends with An Tachibana. Arai has a crush on her, but Tezuka-jii-chan is really scary. Can you imagine Kaidoh as a little brother like Yuuta? Gee, I could speculate all day long. I only wish the glimpses we get of the other schools were a little more consistent in this universe.


	9. Bright Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _Ryuzaki-sensei has her doubts that Momoshiro and Kaidoh will be able to work together as team leaders. Oishi thinks it will be fine._

“Oye, idiot. Where did you put the training menu?”

Momoshiro looked up from where he was tying his shoe. “Training menu? The one for the freshmen?”

Kaidoh made a dismissive sound. “What other menu is there?”

“Why do you think I took it? You probably lost it somewhere. Don’t blame me if you can’t keep track of things.”

Kaidoh’s hackles rose immediately. “What do you mean, ‘I lost it’? You were supposed to hold it until today’s practice.”

“That’s not how I remember it, Mamushi.”

From a distance, Oishi stood with Ryuzaki-sensei and watched the two young men banter, a confrontation which abruptly devolved into a wrestling match when Momoshiro realized he’d been sitting on the notebook the whole time. The woman crossed her arms. “Maybe we made the wrong choice assigning them to drill the freshmen.”

Oishi scratched the back of his neck. “They do have an unusual way of collaborating.”

“You call that collaborating?” Ryuzaki-sensei snorted, shaking her head in disgust. “I don’t know.”

_“Quit trying to strangle me! We’re going to be late getting started!”_

_“If we’re late, it’s your fault!”_

Sighing, Seigaku’s vice-captain said, “Well, they need to get used to working together. Next year the team will need them to be leaders, and neither of them can do it on their own.”

Ryuzaki-sensei hummed in agreement. “You’re right, of course, but can they do it?”

Finished arguing for the moment, Momo and Kaidoh stood and walked toward Court D, where the freshmen students were waiting. Momo addressed them first, hands on his hips. “Alright. Start with fifty laps around the grounds.”

The response was reflexively widened eyes, panicked expressions. “Fifty!” protested one of the boys.

“Did he stutter?” Kaidoh demanded. His audience blanched, and, as a body, shook their heads. “Then get going!”

As they took off, Momo commented, “Scary, Kaidoh. You don’t think that was a little harsh?”

“Says the guy who lets himself be challenged by first years. Do you think you’ll win their respect that way?”

Momo huffed a laugh. “They can’t play tennis if they’re dead, you know.”

“You’re the one who started them out with laps.”

“I thought you’d like that,” Momo said. “Running, running, running. That’s all I ever see you do.”

“You haven’t been complaining lately. Be thankful I let you come with me.”

“_Let_ me? Geez. Why do you always have to pick a fight?”

“_Me_ pick a fight?”

From a distance, Oishi and Ryuzaki-sensei continued their surveillance, and despite the bickering, the woman’s shoulders eased. “Alright, so they’re morons. But maybe it will be okay.”

“Surprising, isn’t it? It was the same when they first played doubles together. I thought you and Tezuka were just trying to teach them a lesson, but somehow they make a good combination.”

“Balance,” Ryuzaki-sensei suggested wisely.

Warm certainty grew Oishi’s chest as he watched Momoshiro punch Kaidoh’s arm affectionately and then dodge the answering swing. He chuckled, thinking of the bright future of the Seigaku tennis club. Those two had come a long, long way. When the time came, he would trust them to pick up where he left off.

Nodding, he gave his benediction: “The team will be in good hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episode (113) _Atobe the Beautiful_ wherein Momoshiro and Kaidoh’s bickering isn’t always what it appears to be. Despite the difficult start they had, I think that once these two find their footing, they’ll make excellent leaders. Not that they don’t have their work cut out for them with such an novice team to build on once the seniors graduate…


	10. Role Model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _When Taka-san finds out Momoshiro has been hiding injuries, he struggles to find a way to help without causing more damage._

Kawamura Takashi knew that, as a mentor, he was letting Momoshiro down. They both played an aggressive style of tennis, so it only made sense that he should be a role model for his younger counterpart. Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out that way. He was too timid in some ways and too reckless in others. In fact, although he was older, there were times he felt it was the spunky lower classman who supported _him_ instead of the other way around. Yet Momo did look up to him.

"I hope I can be as brave as you, Taka-san," he said in the hospital after Takashi had returned Fudomine's _hadokyu_ in Fuji's place. Hissing at the doctor's ministrations, Taka didn’t think he was brave. He _knew_ he could return that shot, just as he'd known Fuji would have been hurt. That wasn't brave.

Still, it was nice that a guy like Momoshiro thought so highly of him. "Thanks," Taka said, and then they hurried off to watch Echizen's match.

After that, Takashi didn't think much about those kinds of things, except to remind Momo about strength training and occasionally to engage him in explosive practice matches where they could both feel the push of every return on their rackets. Momoshiro always laughed and roared back his own battle cries just as loud as Taka's. During those times, Takashi didn't feel so bad about how he was doing as a senpai.

Still, he wished there was more he could do. After all, everybody needed someone to look out for them, right? Even dauntless Momoshiro, who didn't seem to need help from anybody.

* * *

It was a cool morning and everyone was stretching after a jog around the grounds. Momoshiro had been behind in the pack today, and Kaidoh was needling him about it – something about hamburgers and too much slacking off. Momo snarled back that at least he didn't spend _literally every moment_ training, which pissed Kaidoh off enough to physically retaliate.

The two rivals grabbed each other by their shirtfronts practically every day, so often it seemed like their natural way of communicating. This argument didn't seem any different, yet when Kaidoh grasped his shoulder, Momoshiro jerked, and with sharp, sudden anger, he shoved Kaidoh away. "Back off, Kaidoh!"

The tone and quality of his voice was completely unlike Momo, his physical response far too violent. It attracted every eye immediately, but Momoshiro was already stomping off. Kaidoh adjusted his ruffled jersey. "Che," he said. "What's wrong with him today?"

Taka said, "It seems like Momo is heated up already."

Kachiro, who was holding a basket of tennis balls, folded his eyebrows downward. "But it's not like him, is it? Those two fight all the time, but that was strange."

Taka wasn't sure what to make of this. "What do you mean?"

The freshmen ducked his head. "Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems like something’s been bothering Momo-chan-senpai lately. He hasn't been walking home with Katsuo, Horio, and me. Not even Ryoma-kun. But maybe he's just tired of hanging out with first years all the time. Do you think that's it, Kawamura-senpai?"

Taka was quick to reassure Kachiro. "I'm sure that's not it. He probably just needs some time to himself. Maybe there's even a girl he likes!"

Kachiro smiled at him. "You're probably right. I'm sure I'm worrying over nothing."

At afternoon practice, Momo seemed distracted. He missed several balls during feeding drills, and actually snapped at Inui when he was corrected. Twenty laps later, he returned to play a practice match with Taka, who watched him warily over the net. He didn't like to say how concerned he was, especially when Momo wouldn't even look at him as they shook hands.

"Oye, Momo," he said, trying to ease the tension he saw in the sophomore’s shoulders. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

Momoshiro gritted his teeth, glaring at the ground. "I'm fine. Let's get started."

Taka won six games in a row, the best record he'd ever had against Momoshiro, yet it had been one of the most upsetting matches he'd ever played. There had been none of their lively banter or playful testing of each other's physical limits. Momo had been totally lacking control, reckless to the point of suicidal. Oishi, who’d been watching the match, called out, "Momoshiro. I want to talk to you."

They left the grounds for this conversation, and when Oishi returned, his face was red. Takashi's eyes stretched. Had they fought? Momoshiro was never disrespectful, especially toward Oishi. "Where's Momo?"

"Cooling off," Oishi said curtly. "I don't know what's going on with him today, but my patience is getting a little thin."

Something _had_ happened, then. Taka looked toward the clubhouse and the fountains. What was going on?

When he came back, Momoshiro was calmer. He steered away from Kaidoh, worked hard, and kept his head down. Within a week, everyone seemed to forget about his off-day, but the memory lingered with Taka. _‘I wish I could speak to him about it,'_ he thought. But it was just another way he was failing Momo. If he was more of a mentor, maybe he would feel comfortable approaching him, but he didn't.

* * *

The restaurant was closing for the night. Taka had finished wiping down the tables and was sweeping outside the door when he was alerted by a noise. It was barely discernable, but Taka knew that sound. Fists hitting flesh, followed by a kind of guttural noise that tore out of person when they’d been struck hard. Then there was a thump, like a bag being dropped, and Taka found himself running.

Only a few streets away, he came upon the fight. Four, no five teenagers wearing school uniforms. They were wedged around a body on the ground, and as he watched, one of the attackers pulled back his foot and struck again. Takashi knew he had to do something, whether that meant trying to intervene or going for help. There was a shop nearby, and they would have a phone. He could get the owner to come, or he could call the police.

Another brutal kick, and this time the victim’s cry sliced right into Taka, freezing his feet to the ground. At first he wasn’t sure why. Then realization struck. That voice – he knew that voice. Searchingly, he took a step forward, and as he did, the boy being attacked lifted his head just enough for Taka to be sure.  
Momoshiro. That was Momoshiro, and those bigger boys were hurting him.

When he held a racket, Takashi had a fire inside him. He didn't know why it happened, only that all the confidence he wished for the rest of the time suddenly became accessible. He could fight then. He could always fight then. Without the racket, however, he was just shy Kawamura Takashi.

He did not need a racket now.

Takashi barreled into the assailants, knocking them over, striking them with flailing fists, and bellowing obscenities at the top of his lungs. In complete shock, the young men broke away. Taka watched them run, his blood pounding. His lungs were being squeezed by the enormous fury he felt, and only a ragged voice stopped him from pursuing them.

"T-taka-san?"

Horror quickly overtook anger. Taka knelt beside Momoshiro, whose face had long, deep scratches that were weeping blood. "Are you alright?"

Momoshiro somehow managed a smile. "Where did you come from?"

"You're close to my pop's shop.” In fact, that was where they needed to go. He didn't think those guys would come back, but there was always a chance. "Can you get up?"

Momo pulled himself upright, though afterwards he had stop and catch his breath. Finally, he accepted Taka’s arm, and together they hobbled back down the block to the open door of _Kawamura Sushi._ The light was still on, shining out onto the darkened street, and Taka's father was waiting. He took in the sight of them.

"Takashi, I was worried when you suddenly disappeared. What happened?"

Taka opened his mouth to answer, but Momoshiro answered before he could. "Nothing. Just a little roughhousing that went too far."

His father frowned but stepped out of the way. "If that’s the case, we’d better take care of that cut on your face." He followed them up the stairs, watching Momoshiro sink onto the floor of Taka’s room. "You boys let me know if you need anything," he said, and then the door slid shut on its track.

Takashi fetched the iodine and wet a cotton ball. He did his best to be gentle, but he could tell from the way Momo tensed that it hurt. "They really did a number on you. It's still bleeding."

"One of them pushed me into the side of that building. Stings pretty bad. Do you think it will leave a mark?"

Taka was fairly sure it would bruise spectacularly beneath the scratches, and Momo's eye looked a little swollen, too. Plus there were doubt injuries beneath his clothing. Karate had taught Taka just how much damage a kick could do. "I don't think you're going to be able to hide it, if that's what you mean." A cloud passed over Momo's expression, and Taka became even more upset. "Momo," he said. "You aren't going to try keeping this a secret?"

Momoshiro leaned back, pointedly putting his line of sight elsewhere. His weak chuckle was transparent. "Don't worry so much, Taka-san. It's just a few little cuts."

As he applied a plaster over the raw skin on his teammate's face, Takashi felt inclined to disagree. He didn't know those boys, but they’d been older and there were a lot of them. Even for someone as tough as Momo, that wasn't a fair fight. He wanted to ask more, but pushing wasn't getting him anywhere so far. He packed the first aid supplies back in their box. "Do you want me to walk home with you?"

"Ah." Momo hesitated, drawing an arm across his chest. "Actually I'm not ready to head back yet. You don't mind if I hang out with you for a bit, do you?"

Taka went to his bureau. He pulled out a soft cotton shirt and an extra pair of track shorts. "If you stay, you should get comfortable. Your clothes are a mess. Maybe my pop will wash them for you so you don't have to explain them to your parents."

Gratitude was thick in Momoshiro's expression as he took the offered clothes. "Thanks. You don't mind if I use the phone to give them a call?"

Taka went downstairs to have a word with his father while Momo changed and contacted his parents. He offered the soiled clothing with a downcast face, watching his father finger the holes torn in the elbows. The man said, "This looks like more than a little roughhousing, Takashi."

"Ano," Taka stammered, unsure what to say. It didn't feel right sharing what happened, especially since Momo had been so reticent. Nonetheless, he didn't want to lie to his pop.

His father reached for his hand, fingering the swollen knuckles. "I'm proud of you for looking out for him. It seems he could use a friend."

Takashi returned upstairs and found Momo stretched out on his side. He almost seemed to be sleeping, but he opened his eyes when Takashi sat down beside him. His face looked terrible, even with the plaster covering the worst lacerations, and there were shadows beneath his eyes. When he pushed himself upright, he was obviously stiff. 

“You alright?”

“Just sore,” Momo said, stretching slowly. “Thanks for letting me stay, Taka-san.”

"It's nothing. Do you need anything else? There's pain medicine in the bathroom."

"Maybe later." Momo scratched his hair, which had gone flat, and sighed. "I really appreciate what you did, you know. I would have been alright, but thank you."

A spike of frustration went through Taka. "There were five of them, Momo," he said.

Momoshiro was doing that eye-averting thing again. "It's not like they have the guts to do any real damage. They're just a bunch of cowards."

That made it sound far too much like Momoshiro knew his attackers. But if he’d run into them before, surely he would have said something, right? A bad feeling started to come over Taka. He thought about the strange way Momo had been behaving lately. "Momo, has this happened before?"

He wanted Momo to laugh, to tell him to stop being ridiculous. Instead, an uncharacteristic sharpness made angles on Momo’s face where usually there were none. He said, “No.”

It was so obviously untrue that Taka found himself doing something he rarely did – getting angry. "You’re lying!"

Momo looked dogged. "What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what really happened. Please."

The bedroom filled with quiet noises: the clock on the nightstand, the buzz of a bug hitting a screen window, the far off sound of a dog barking. Downstairs, they could heard the laundry machine. Finally, Momoshiro drew his legs in, putting his hands in his lap. "Fine," he said. "I do know them. They've jumped me before."

Even though he'd suspected it, the confirmation was no less troubling. "Why?"

Momo made an irritated sound. "One of them was perving on this junior high school girl at the shopping center. I took care of it, no problem, but I was wearing my school uniform, and he and his friends cornered me a few day later. I figured they'd leave me alone after…after that, but they haven't."

The story of how it had all started didn't surprise Taka. It was just like Momo to step in to protect a frightened girl. Apparently he'd crossed a real jerk, though; someone who didn't mind ganging up on somebody for revenge. "Is this why you haven't been leaving school with Echizen and the other freshmen?"

Momo seemed loathe to admit it. "Those guys wait for me sometimes. Can you imagine what might happen to Kachiro or Echizen?"

Thinking of their club's two smallest members made the fine hairs on Taka’s arms stand up. Echizen had the self-preservation sense of a garden slug when it came to people who annoyed him. However, Echizen wasn't the only person on the team. "Why would you walk home by yourself if you knew this might happen? Any of us would have come with you."

Momo shook his head. "If a bunch of our team get caught fighting, Seigaku could get in serious trouble. And more importantly –" He trailed off and leaned forward. "Taka-san, I don't want anybody else getting hurt."

Taka sat back, dismayed. Momoshiro was athletic, tall for his age. In tennis, he was a formidable adversary, powerful and smart. He also possessed an amiable personality that discouraged confrontation. Taka had never thought Momo would be vulnerable to this kind of bullying. Based on the boy’s defeated posture, Taka was sure Momo had never expected it either.

A sudden memory of the way Momoshiro had jerked away from Kaidoh seized Taka, and his mouth fell open. "Take off that shirt. I want to see your shoulder."

Momoshiro resisted. "No, Taka-san. You don't need to see it."

"It's injured, isn't it?"

"One of them stepped on it," Momo admitted. "But it's fine. Kaidoh just happened to grab me the day after it happened."

That was more than a week ago. If Momo was still refusing to show him, it must be very bad indeed. Taka vividly remembered that flinch. It also explained their terrible match and Momo's strained temper. He must have been in a lot of pain. “Momo," he said, shaking his head. "We can't keep this a secret."

Momoshiro looked alarmed. "A few more days, and I’m sure they'll get tired of this. I can avoid them until then."

Taka felt it more likely that evasion would be taken as a challenge, and Taka didn't want to find out Momo had come to serious harm through the school gossip mill. Moreover, Momo's unwillingness to share his trouble was setting off ripples of warning in Taka’s mind. It was one thing to be self-reliant, but another entirely to hide the fact that someone was hurting you. That alone was reason to address this with the other seniors. But how could he convince Momo?

Too meek in some ways and too reckless in others. _'But I can't be weak about this,'_ Taka thought, turning his fingers inward until they made two fists. _'Not where it concerns his safety.'_

Reading the resolve on Taka's face, Momoshiro abruptly stood, marching to the other side of the room. He wobbled as he paced, but seemed to have too much nervous energy to be still. Finally, he jerked around to face Taka. "If you really cared, you wouldn't force this."

Absurd. _'How can you ask me to stand back and watch you get hurt?'_

Momo was his friend, but he was also his kohai. That made Taka responsible for him. Yet, seeing the fierce, helpless look on Momoshiro's face, he feared causing further damage. Unsteady on his feet, exhaustion bending his back, eye blackened – Taka didn't know if Momo could handle one more blow. How could Taka help without taking control away from him? The answer came bouncing into Taka’s mind like a yellow ball. Momoshiro was a tennis player. Maybe that was the way to make him understand.

"Do you remember when you first started doubles?"

"Doubles?" Momo bent over, hands on his knees. If he didn’t sit, he was going to fall. Taka steered him back down.

"I remember when I first tried doubles," Taka said. "I would forget my partner was there, or we would run into each other."

Momoshiro nodded. "Yeah, I did that. Echizen sucks at doubles."

Takashi smiled at the memory of that match with Gyokurin. Like the others, he'd watched with dismay as the mismatched pair tried to avoid self-destruction. "Depending on someone else isn't easy when you're used to playing by yourself. But even for a powerful player, two-against-one never works. We see that happen all the time, don't we?" He paused, sensing Momoshiro’s understanding. "The quickest way to be defeated is to forget you're not playing alone."

He knew he'd said the right thing when all the tension went out of Momo. He clenched his hands over his knees. "Taka-san," he said bleakly. "I think I need help."

Takashi put his arm around Momoshiro's shoulders.

* * *

The senior club members didn't take the news any better than Taka had. Oishi had been so upset he hit the table, and Fuji's eyes were glacial. Frowning, Inui pulled out his notebook, nearly tearing the page which listed the local high schools. Every eye was intent on him.

"We'll need Ryuzaki-sensei to clear this up completely," Inui said. "Until then, we'll handle things internally. Taka-san, I think it would be best if the other regulars knew, don't you?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Inui was implying. There were two others who were very close to Momoshiro, and neither of them would put up with him being in harm’s way. Takashi nodded at the circle of his teammates, agreeing.

There was one more thing. "Ah, Oishi,” Taka said, “I think you and Ryuzaki-sensei should talk to Momo. I’m worried about how reluctant he was to tell us about this."

To his surprise, Oishi shook his head. Coming around the table, he put a hand on Takashi’s back. "I think Momo already has someone he can talk to, don't you, Taka-san?"

A surge of protectiveness went through Taka, making him feel just a hint of that fiery anger he knew so well on the tennis court. Oishi was right. He'd always wanted to be there for Momo, and now he had his chance.

Not that he was alone in that mission. That afternoon as they were getting dressed in the clubhouse, Kaidoh stepped in front of Momoshiro. "Hurry up, dumbass," he said. "You're walking home with me today."

Every muscle in Momoshiro's body went rigid, and Taka could tell that he was preparing to reject the offer. However, Echizen was suddenly at his friend's elbow. "Don't try to sneak away, Momo-senpai. We'll catch you."

Feeling the need to defuse things, Taka joined them. "I feel like a hamburger. Why don't I treat you all today?"

Echizen grinned at him, while Kaidoh just looked dour. Taka, however, kept his eyes on Momoshiro, who was staring at the limp shoelaces in his hands. Finally, though, Momo lifted his head. He looked grateful, if still demoralized. Building him back up would take time. Nonetheless, he dredged up a smile.

“Thanks, Taka-san,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on Taka’s heroism in episode (15) _To Each His Own Battles_ and the Momo-Taka practice match in episode (25). Not to mention their awesome doubles match against Rokkaku’s Bane-David Pair in (92-93). Taka and Momo’s tight relationship seems obvious, but it interests me that their personalities are as different as their tennis is similar. Momo seems to take the lead when they’re together, so much so that they’re referred to as “Momoshiro-tachi” a few times during their double’s match, but I just bet Taka feels protective of Momo as his junior.


	11. Fur and Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _Ryoma’s cat befriends Momoshiro, which really shouldn’t surprise anyone._

Ryoma wasn't entirely sure how, or even when, he had decided to be friends with Momoshiro Takeshi. He was loud, extroverted, and ridiculously demonstrative for someone Japanese. He also mussed Ryoma’s hair, which was extremely annoying, and rarely stopped talking unless he was on the tennis court. He did play decent tennis. However, tennis wasn't enough to explain it. Frankly Momoshiro had the kind of boisterous personality that Ryoma usually avoided.

So how was it, he wondered, that he continually ended up on the back of this bike, gripping Momoshiro’s shoulders and listening to him chat companionably about Eiji’s latest gossip, or Kaidoh’s infuriating quip, or Fuji’s amazing counter? They had just finished afternoon practice, and Ryoma was in a good mood. Which was perhaps why, when Momo skidded to a halt in front of his home, Ryoma asked if he wanted to come inside.

"Really, you sure?" Momo asked. Although they often traveled back and forth from school and hung out around town on days when there weren't club activities, Momo wasn’t often invited into his house.

Ryoma considered. He wasn't bored. He didn’t need anything from Momo. He just felt like having him around for a while longer. Wasn't that what friends did? Shouldering his bag, he headed for the door. "Come on before I change my mind.”

Momoshiro propped his bike inside the gate. "Lucky! I have some English homework I really need help with."

"You should do your own work, Momo-senpai."

"I do it!" Momoshiro protested. "I just haven't got a head for languages. Not like you and Taka-san."

Ryoma recalled Kawamura-senpai’s many exclamations in what could more or less be called English. For lack of anything better to say, he muttered, "Hm."

He was grateful to find they had the house to themselves except for Karupin, who met them at the door and began winding around Ryoma’s ankles. Momoshiro was met with a curious sniff and a slight flutter of a fluffy tail. Momo grinned at the cat. "Yo. Remember me?"

Ryoma sighed. "Come on."

Leaving their tennis equipment at the door, they made their way up to Ryoma’s room where they could spread out their homework on the floor. It was something Ryoma did everyday, but he had to admit there was something pleasant about having Momoshiro’s shoulder jammed in next to his as they sat against the bed. Or there would have been, if he’d been able to get anything done.

The problem was Karupin. The feline seemed to remember their visitor after all, and had proceeded to arch against Momoshiro’s side to get his attention. Momo, for his part, was besotted, and had long since shoved aside his own assignment in favor of attempting to pet the cat. Ryoma was compelled to say ‘attempting’, because his upraised hand looked more like he was going in for an overhead shot than petting a small, delicate animal.

"Echizen, Echizen," Momo said as he finally succeeded in stroking Karupin. "It's making noises."

Exasperated, Ryoma laid aside his pencil. "Of course. He likes you."

"Really?" Momoshiro said, delighted.

A warm feeling momentarily filled Ryoma’s chest as he watched Karupin climb into Momo’s lap and make himself comfortable. The cat even went so far as to roll over and offer up his belly for scratching, something Ryoma had only known Karupin to do for himself and Nanako. Momoshiro laughed when Karupin caught his hand in two paws and gnawed affectionately on his fingers.

Ryoma looked away. "Of course Karupin likes you," he muttered. "I like you."

Although Momoshiro played the fool most of the time, he could be surprisingly perceptive. Which is why Ryoma wasn't surprised that Momo’s only response was an undemanding, lopsided smile. And wasn’t that just another reason why they got along? Momoshiro didn't expect him to be a tennis ace or an idol or the pillar of the Seigaku team. Ryoma had the feeling that he and Momoshiro would be friends even without tennis, which frankly astonished him. Before Seigaku, he’d barely known there even _were_ meaningful confederations outside of the sport.

"Mrow!" Karupin protested the lull in Momoshiro’s attention, squirming and batting at the air. The purring began again almost as soon as Momoshiro brought his fingers back down.

"Well, I like him, too," Momo said, scratching under Karupin’s chin until the Himalayan’s blue eyes closed in bliss.

Ryoma harrumphed, but made no comment. At this rate they might as well give up on homework and go play tennis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on episode (27) _Karupin’s Adventure_, which shows off Ryoma’s more human side. When he gets emotional over having his cat back and then invites Momoshiro to play tennis, it made me think about how painstaking it must have been for a reserved kid like him to cultivate friendships. Also based on my best friend’s temperamental cat, who seemed to bestow friendship on me based solely on her master’s esteem.


	12. In the Company of Equals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __
> 
> _After a spontaneous act of kindness, Momoshiro gets kidnapped by Kabaji._

Momoshiro picked up the towel that had fluttered to the ground without thinking. Jogging to catch up with their retreating rivals, he held out the terrycloth rag, which was still damp with sweat. "Oye, Kabaji," he called. "I think you dropped this."

The long, muscular back hesitated, then Kabaji turned. He looked at the offering, his expression unreadable, and then he reached to take it. However, instead of grasping the towel, his huge fist engulfed Momoshiro's entire hand, gripping strongly.

"Oh," Atobe said, coming up beside them. "It seems Kabaji is deeply moved by your considerate act."

Deeply...moved? Momoshiro peered into Kabaji’s intense, blank stare, trying to read any emotion there. Gee, was this guy even human? Momo couldn't believe that he was only thirteen, but Inui was never wrong about things like that. How on earth was he so big? Although Momo was tall for his age, Kabaji's shoulders were like a bracket over his own.

Finally, Momoshiro put his free hand behind his neck, going for an easy laugh. "Uh, well. It's nothing, Kabaji. See you around, okay?"

Momo didn't like to admit how glad he was when his hand was released. As he headed back to his team, he shook it ruefully, but it remained numb the entire ride back.

* * *

Momo didn't think anything more about this encounter until later in the week when he was getting ready to walk home with Echizen and the other freshmen. They’d just passed the gates when Momo ran into something as unyielding as a stone wall. Startled, he stumbled backward. What?

"Yo," said a very deep voice, and Momoshiro looked up. And up. And up.

"Kabaji," he blurted in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Kabaji didn't answer him. Instead, he grasped Momoshiro's wrist. Instinctively, Momo's muscles contracted, trying to jerk free, but Kabaji didn't move an inch. His mouth opened. "Come," he said, and then Momoshiro was being dragged away by one arm in broad daylight, no matter how much he dug his heels in.

As they rounded the corner, he heard Horio squeak, "What should we do? Momo-chan-senpai's being kidnaped!" This was followed by Echizen's deadpan response: "Is it really considered kidnapping when you know the kidnapper?"

Damn that Echizen. He was far too careless with his senpai. Although in this case, Momo didn't really think he was being kidnapped. For all his impressive strength, Kabaji was just a kid. Maybe he wanted to play tennis? "Oye, Kabaji," he said as he was dragged along. "Where are we going?"

No answer, not all the way across town, until finally they reached a very nice neighborhood with sprawling, modern houses and big gardens. Kabaji punched in a code to open a gate. They passed into the house's entryway and then Momoshiro was free. He rubbed his sore wrist while Kabaji removed his shoes and meticulously arranged them with the others. He turned his head and looked at Momo's feet.

"Oh!" Momo stammered, flustered. He rushed to yank off his sneakers. "Sorry!"

Kabaji was still carefully lining them up when a voice greeted them. "Mune, honey. Is that you?"

"Tadaima," Kabaji said in monotone.

A woman stepped into the hall, and Momoshiro's eyes stretched. She was the biggest lady he'd ever seen, almost as tall as Kabaji, with thick brown hair tied in a ponytail and biceps like the poles supporting a tennis net. She smiled at them sweetly. "Oh, Mune. I thought you were with Keigo-kun again today. Who is this?"

Self-conscious, Momo introduced himself. "Momoshiro Takeshi. We, ah, met playing tennis."

"Tennis, tennis." The woman shook her head. "That seems like all you kids think about. Well, I'm glad you decided to take a break today. Do you plan to go upstairs, darling?" Kabaji nodded to the lady, who was obviously his mother, and started ascending the stairs. He clearly expected Momo to follow. His mother waved as they climbed. "I'll make you boys some snacks."

Momoshiro, who had pretty much resigned himself to confusion, was ushered to the end of the hall. He wasn't sure what to expect, but a normal boy's room wasn't it. Seashells were lined up on the shelves. A blue comforter covered a very wide, sturdy bed with a limp, raggedy stuffed animal on it. There were framed pictures of a younger (though not much smaller) Kabaji with a silver-haired boy who had a mole on his cheek.

A fish tank burbled in the background, and Momo spotted a fleet school of tiny electric blue fish darting in and out of what seemed to be living coral. He was so engrossed that he almost jumped out of his skin when Kabaji's huge palm slammed down on his shoulder.

"Sit," said Kabaji.

Momo sank down immediately. Then he waited, cross-legged, while the other folded himself across from him. Kabaji looked pleased, sort of, now that Momo was looking. Thinking of Atobe, Momo wondered if maybe Kabaji was just enjoying giving the orders for once. The idea made him crack a smile, and he relaxed a little.

Kabaji, meanwhile, was holding a stack of square cards, which he began laying out in a neat, ten-by-ten pattern. Curious, Momo watched until, with a final nudge to the perfectly aligned rows, Kabaji looked up. "Go," he said.

Perplexed, Momo picked up one of the cards. Printed on one side was a picture of a cartoon octopus. He stared. Was this? He set down his octopus, reached across, and turned over another card. An adorable baby shark smiled up at him. Kabaji turned down the mismatched cards and took his turn. He faultlessly revealed two sharks, then turned over a starfish and a clown fish. He looked at Momo expectantly.

They were playing Memory.

"Uh," said Momo, unsure how he felt about playing a kid’s game. However, he’d never been one to refuse a challenge, and so he pulled off his uniform jacket to get more comfortable. Kabaji, not surprisingly, had excellent recall. Seven games in, Momoshiro leaned back and gave an exasperated huff. "You win, Kabaji. I can't take any more."

Kabaji blinked, then began stacking the cards. Momo listened to the clock tick. It was painted with a Hokusai wave. It had delicate little curls at the tips that looked hand painted. Idly, he wondered if Kabaji's awesome copying skills extended to that kind of thing, too. It made him curious.

"So, you like cards and seashells. And tennis, I guess. Or is that more Atobe's thing?"

The other teen's head tilted, but it didn't seem as blank as before. Now that Momo was paying attention, there were all kinds of little shifts in his expression, almost like he was having a conversation, and Momo was just kind of deaf. He remembered what Inui said about Kabaji playing unreasonably logical tennis, which meant he wasn't stupid. Momo became determined to listen better.

"I like seashells," he said. "Although I've only been to the beach a few times. Our team went there to play volleyball. It was fun, but I kind of suck at that sport."

A micro-movement of a dark eyebrow twisting downward. A question?

"I don't mind basketball, even if it's boring. I'm good at jumping. But tennis is really it for me. Hey, do you like _°C-ute_? I just downloaded their album." He dug around in his bag for his MP3 player. Kabaji accepted one of the ear buds and they listened to a few songs. Afterwards, Momo asked, "What do you like to listen to?"

Standing, Kabaji went to his stereo. Momo didn't think he could be shocked by anything, from Babymetal to Beethoven. However, he hadn't expected the soft, natural rhythm of waves on sand, broken only by the occasional cry of a seagull.

"You really like the ocean, huh?" said Momo. "We ought to go sometime –"

He stopped. What was he saying? He barely knew this guy. Momo glanced up, embarrassed, only to find that Kabaji had frozen. Fortunately, the awkward moment was interrupted by the timely appearance of Kabaji's mother, who carried a plate of snacks. She offered Momo a warm smile. "It's nice to see Mune making some new friends. Keigo-kun is a sweetheart, but my Mune is so shy, I worry sometimes. Are you going to stay and eat with us tonight, Takeshi-kun?"

Without giving him a chance to answer, Kabaji said, "Yes."

Momo decided to just go with it. "Uh, sure. I'd love to. Thanks."

As he listened to Mrs. Kabaji descend the steps, it occurred to Momoshiro that he’d been invited over to hang out. As a friend. Had he just become friends with the monster of Hyotei? He turned back to Kabaji, who was staring at his socks, looking uncertain. He was obviously close to Atobe, but Atobe was also his senpai and had a personality that would overpower anybody, never mind a quiet guy who liked seashells.

Finally feeling as though he understood, Momoshiro softened. Everybody needed to just chill with an equal sometimes. "Hey, Kabaji," he said. "Inui-senpai said your grunting technique is really great. Do you think you could coach me sometime?"

Brown eyes flickered, and Kabaji sat down with a thump. Then – Momoshiro _swore_ – he smiled. "Okay," he said.

They were deep in the middle of a game of Go Fish and a mostly one-sided conversation about movies (Momoshiro liked animal stories, adventure movies, and explosions. Kabaji, sci-fi. Who knew?) when Kabaji's mom called up the steps. "Mune, darling. Takeshi-kun. Dinner!"

"Come," Kabaji said, and Momo hopped up, grinning.

"Osu," he chimed, just because he could. Then he almost blacked out when Kabaji clapped him on the back. Fortunately Kabaji caught his shoulder before he went toppling down the stairs. Momo complained, "Gee, have a little consideration. I'm delicate."

Once again, he could swear – _swear_ – Kabaji smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on the match beginning with episode (60) _Power vs. Power_ and the little flashes of Kabaji in general, like him playing with the dog in (126). He and Atobe are obviously really close, but I wanted Momo to become his buddy. So there!


End file.
